#flame & moth rp inspired

[wardenred]

Whumptember 23: "Is that blood?"

Oh, look, Flame is bleeding again. Maybe I should write some nice stuff about him for Flufftober next month, to make up for all these troubles. :D

Wearing the costume was a weird experience even when it didn't malfunction. Flame recognized the cold wind picking up around him, prodding at his body. He didn't feel the impact of it, though. Not in any tangible way. It was like being under anesthesia in a dentist's office. 

He would really appreciate some actual anesthesia right now. Those stab wounds hurt like a motherfucker. He kept hoping the initial sharp pain would fade; instead, it had turned into a throbbing burn that gave no sign of subsiding.

At least no major arteries had been hit. As far as he could tell, anyway. Maybe it was only the costume holding his body together, and as soon as he peeled it off, even more blood would come flooding out.

Around him, the suburbs went on with their hushed post-midnight life. An owl hooted in the distance. The wind rustles the newly sprung leaves on the branches. A car growled past, its driver accelerating like their life depended on it.

Hopefully it didn't. There were, after all, no heroes nearby to offer aid. Only Flame, too bruised and broken to be of use.

Five more minutes, he told himself. Five more minutes, and then I'll try to get up.

The wooden stairs were just as hard as his stiff muscles. He slid down to sit on the lowest one and flopped back with a groan. Observation: stairs make for a lousy bed. He let his eyes flutter close and took a deep breath.

Or attempted to. 

The costume tightened around his chest—or was it his ribcage growing smaller around his organs? He couldn't tell. There was all that weight, all that pressure, and every gasp of breath came with effort. Is it a panic attack or am I done for?

Panic attack. It had to be a panic attack. He wouldn't have it any other way.

He struggled for breath, forcing himself to hold the air in for a few counts, then exhale slowly, then inhale more without choking. After a while, he was pretty sure he was passing out.

The next thing he knew, a door creaked open behind him, flooding the back porch with light. Flame looked up, trying to draw more oxygen through his constricting throat. Black flies danced in front of his eyes.

Batshit was towering over him, unmasked and costumeless. Faint sounds of TV came from behind her back, accompanied with the smell of something roasted that could be potatoes or chicken or both. She crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

Flame propped himself up on one elbow, made a grab for the bannister to sit up. Breathe, he ordered himself. Now. 

Wasn't it unfortunate that human ability for speech couldn't function very well without breathing?

It took a few false starts and a good number of glares from Batshit, but finally, he managed, "I got beat up. Nearby. On that solo mission. Didn't mean to disturb you, just thought I'd rest here. Before heading home." His head felt light, a helium balloon dangling on a frayed string. Any moment now, a gust of wind would float his skull away and scatter his brains all around this nice, tranquil neighborhood. "Sorry," he ground out for good measure. "Didn't mean to disturb you."

Her jaw tightened. "When my occasional partner drops on my backstep looking like roadkill, I tend to be a little disturbed, no matter how you mean it. Purely by the inconvenience of it." She narrowed her eyes, looking his hunched form up and down. After a moment, something changed. She leaned forward, hands on her knees, eyebrows shooting up. "Hang on. Is that blood?"

Flame shrugged. "Got myself a couple of new scars, probably. Chicks dig them."

She scoffed. "As if you were ever into chicks. How the fuck is it leaking through your costume? Isn't it supposed to keep it in and use it for regeneration?"

"The other guy had some mean high-tech weapon. Must be a malfunction." All this talking was getting exhausting. At least he wasn't hyperventilating quite so badly anymore. Definitely a silver lining.

Batshit let out a long-suffering sigh and stepped closer. "Okay. Come on. Let me help you up. You need to be quiet though, get it? Very quiet. I don't want my mom to totally lose it."

She crouched beside him, slinging his arm over her shoulder. Flame tried to shift away. "You're tiny, I can't lean on you."

That earned him a withering look. "I'm a force of nature, and you're weak as a disabled kitten. Do shut up."

"Has anyone ever met a disabled kitten?" Flame wondered.

"Shut. Up."

Shivering, he let her lead him into the warmth.

[nocompromise-noregrets]

yay! Thank you lovely! <33333 Right then *cracks knuckles*

1.When did you start writing? How? I've been writing as long as I remember; I had a story about a dinosaur, self-illustrated, in a Mr Men exercise book when I was probably about six or seven. For a while it was mostly just stories for school, but I wrote (but of course didn't finish) a longer story inspired by the film Memphis Belle and by growing up around the former USAAF airfields in East Anglia when I was 15-16, and various other stories inspired by other bits of media, including Poppy Z Brite's Lost Souls and Sarah Ash's Moths to a Flame into my mid-20s. I had no idea that what I was doing was fanfic because this was pre-widely-available-internet; once I discovered fic on the internet, the first actual fanfiction I wrote was a piece inspired by an X-Men comic in 2002, when I was 27 (and it got its first comment on AO3 the other day, having been up there for over 10 years! <3333 ). Shortly after that I fell headlong into the LotR fandom properly, and started writing there...and with the exception of a few fallow years here and there, I've been writing fairly regularly ever since.

11. Do you write for yourself, or for the readers? Bit of both. First and foremost it's for me, because I want to see how the story turns out and what the characters end up saying, but it's also for whoever ends up reading it - and I love to hear which bits people enjoyed or noticed, which bits resonated with them.

24. Would you ever collaborate with another writer for a story? Only with someone I knew well, I think, and with a definite idea. I've done it before with friends (also I used to roleplay, in another fandom, and some of those RPs turned into stories), but I am not great at talking to people I don't know well, and the sort of manufactured collaboration that comes with challenges and events doesn't work well for me - unless I know the person I'm working with, of course! Collaborating with artists is a different matter, and I've hugely enjoyed the three Tolkien Reverse Summer Bang stories I've written for other people's wonderful art.

28. Share a piece from one of your current WIPs! All right...here's a little snippet of Thranduil and Tilda from the chapter of Break You But You'll Mend that I wrote the other week:

Thranduil looked around to see Tilda heaping her plate full of little sandwiches and cake, pouring herself two glasses of wine and scooping everything up rather haphazardly. He moved to help her, and she looked up at him with a cheeky grin.

“Oh, Ada, thank you! Here, you take this glass, it’s for you anyway.” She handed him one of the glasses of wine, and then nudged him to walk with her, around the pond with the fountains to the other side - out of earshot, he noticed, of all of the others clustered on the lawn and the terrace.

“You wanted to tell me about your plants, pen-neth?” he ventured, and Tilda glanced back at the others, and moved a little further away, sitting down on the grass, carefully so as not to spill her wine or dislodge her pile of finger food. Thranduil followed suit, and Tilda gave him a rather worried-looking glance.

“Not really,” she said. “Well, I mean, if you’re interested, I’ve found some fascinating plants out in the woods, some of them are quite similar to those that grew in the Woodland Realm, but there are some significant differences and I can’t wait to study them properly, I think they show evidence of common origins but then separate development, over thousands of years.” She took a sip of her wine, and gave him another look, full of meaning this time. “But I don’t think you’re particularly bothered about plants, are you, Ada? Lord Elrond, yes, but you - no.”

(they are in Valinor, and Tilda and her parents and sister are reincarnated - Tilda has come back in her mid-twenties)

Thank you for asking! <333333 And I shall ask you 4, 5, 16 and 20!

Anyone else fancy asking me stuff about fic writing? :D :D :D Questions above!

I love ask games! So I decided to compile several questions from other ask lists as well as a few of my own into one list here that I thought might be enjoyable!! 

WRITER ASKS!

When did you start writing? How?

Has your writing changed over time?

Do you read your own fics?

Do you write every day? If so, do you have daily goals?

Do you plan? Or do you “wing it”?

If you plan, what does your planning process look like?

How would you describe your writing style?

Have any comments/tags/responses on a fic of yours ever made you laugh, cry or both?

Have you ever made yourself laugh with something you’ve written?

How many unfinished works are in your drafts?

Do you write for yourself, or for the readers?

Do you feel pressured to write some days?

Multichapter fics or one shots?

Do you take requests?

Angst or fluff?

What is your favorite character (or characters) to write for?

What piece of writing are you most proud of?

Which is more difficult, the title or the summary?

Do you have a beta reader?

Do you prefer to edit as you go, or once the piece is finished?

Do you listen to music as you write?

If you had to assign a theme song to [fic title], what would it be?

Have you ever stopped yourself from writing something? Why?

Would you ever collaborate with another writer for a story?

What projects are you currently working on?

Is there a specific scene or scenario you’re looking forward to most? (No, you don’t have to give away spoilers!)

Are there certain types of writing you won’t do? (style, pov, genre, tropes, etc)

Share a piece from one of your current WIPs!

Best writing advice for other writers?

Make up your own question! Ask me anything!

[nekojitachan]

Neil inspires this insane loyalty in RP and in canon. Bren was ready to murder Ichirou, his boss’s boss, for laying a hand on Neil even though he knew Ichirou’s bodyguard would kill him for it; Jean and Neil have the Raven codependency; Marley is willing to throw down for Neil at any given moment once they become friends; the rest of the Hatfords seem to care about Neil even though we don’t see a lot of them; and Andrew is Andrew. He’s drawing in loyalty and affection like a moth to flame.

He does inspire such loyalty, doesn't he? I think it's because of what he and his mother went through; it's all or nothing with him when it comes to the people he cares about, he knows nothing else. He was literally raised to give his all to the one person he cared about and saw her do the same for him. To take whatever harm and suffering came his way if it meant protecting her (because she did the same for him). Yes, Mary was abusive in her own right, which means when Jean, Andrew, Marley, and Bren (and the others) aren't...well, they're that much better, aren't they?

That and here's this scrawny kid with a mouth bigger than him who doesn't know when to stay down, determined to take the hits for everyone else? Who isn't going to go into overprotective mode when they see him????

[moonbcams]

❃ ↷ ˊ-          pelican town is all abuzz about YOON AHNA, our resident 25-year old BARISTA. you know, the one who looks like IM NAYEON? i don’t see it, but maybe that’s just because they remind me of running through fields of flowers, singing along to perfect road trip playlists, & dancing in the moonlight every time i see them at THE BEACH. word around town is that they’re increasingly FREE-SPIRITED and INQUISITIVE, but can get rather ALOOF. hope to see them around the valley soon! 

hiiiii i’m mimi ( 𝕞𝕚𝕞𝕚#7025 ) and i am so very very excited to be here !! i’ve been listening to nayeon all day which very much inspired me to find an rp where i could play her beautiful face. i also just started my summer break so i’m looking forward to getting very invested and making grand plots and bugging you all all the time ok sorry in advance  x.

BASIC INFORMATION

full  name :  yoon ahna  nickname(s)  :  anna, nana, yoonie preferred  name(s)  : ahna  birth  date  :  december 24th 1997  age :  twenty five  zodiac :  capricorn gender  :  cis female  pronouns :  she / her  romantic  orientation :  biromantic  sexual  orientation : bisexual  nationality  :    ethnicity :  asian

BACKGROUND

birth  place  :  pelican town  ,  stardew valley hometown :  pelican town  ,  stardew valley  social  class :  middle class  father  : yoon dae-min  mother :  cha sooyoung  sibling(s) :  n/a  pet(s)  :  jae & duri ( rescue cats )  previous  relationship(s) :  tba.

PHYSICAL  APPEARANCE  &  CHARACTERISTICS  

eye  color  : dark brown  hair  color  : changes frequently depending on her mood  glasses  /  contacts  :  doesn’t need them but will sometimes wear glasses without prescription for the aesthetic  height  : 5′4″  build  :  petite   exercise  habits  :  can sometimes be convinced to workout, but not often.

MANNERISMS

accent :  local accent quirks :  is never fully still  ,  she is always tapping ,  bouncing  ,  wiggling  ,  or dancing  ,  she hums all the time. . hobbies  :  dancing  ,  going for long drives  ,  thrift shopping habits  :    is always late to everything, looses everything all the time  nervous  ticks  :  fidgets a lot  fears  :  heights  positive  traits  :  free spirited, friendly, charming  negative  traits  : careless, flakey

IMPORTANT  /  BACKGROUND

TW: death of parents.

yoon ahna was born on a cold night in december to a middle class family. she was the only child of dae-min and sooyoung and the apple of their eye. she grew up living in her birthplace of pelican town, running around without a care in the world. life was easy. her parents ran a busy restaurant that gave them a steady income, even extra money during the summer months when the area was loaded with tourists and they had a home that was warm and welcoming to all.

ahna was always well liked. she was even considered popular in school, her free spirt and kind heart attracting people to her like moths to a flame. she was a social butterfly, spending more time in class talking to those around her than actually paying attention to the lesson and doodling in all her notebooks. she did just well enough in her studies to make it to graduation. however, she was involved in every other aspect of school life that wasn’t her studies. she was on the student council, a cheerleader, prom queen, dance committee, and even acted in theatre productions. when she wasn’t in school she could be found down on the beach, dancing in the waves, riding her convertible down the highway with the music on full blast and the sound of her laugher always echoed in her wake. ahna was a source of light. 

though, she wasn’t perfect. ahna was always forgetting her curfew, she lost almost everything and you couldn’t rely on her for much. she had the best of intentions at all times but her head was very much in the clouds. she was a daydreamer and would have lost her own head if it wasn’t attached. her carefree attitude was as much of a nuisance as it was an asset. she was so free-spirited that it often appeared she didn’t truly care about anything or anyone. you wanted to be around her but you could never really know her and she never really took the time to know anyone else, everything was at a superficial level.

after graduation, she managed to get into college only a few towns over. this was huge for the yoon family who never really ventured far from their hometown. ahna had decided to study cosmetology. she was to become a make-up artist and hair dresser. it was something she was already somewhat confident with and knew it would be a successful career path. she was good at talking to people and loved the idea of making other’s feel as beautiful on the outside as they were on the inside. not to mention, everyone always talked about how she would be the perfect fit to go off and work in los angeles. it would be a dream to be on movie sets or tours, working for the stars she adored.

however, she was less than a year into her program when tragedy struck. ahna’s parents were in a head-on collision, driving to surprise her with a visit. both died on impact and the young yoon’s whole world was turned upside down. she immediately pulled out of school to return to her hometown. she found comfort in being surrounded by the community who had helped raise her and those who knew her parents as well as she did, if not better. 

the first year, it was like she was walking around in a fog. she has very few memories after packing up and leaving school and packing up her childhood home and parents belongings. that first year she was far from the same girl that had left stardew valley. she had lost her spark. which was understandable. but the bright star who was off to work for the stars of hollywood was gone. she was a drifter, no plan, no job, couch surfing and having no intentions of moving forward.

though, after time it got easier and she started to find herself again. it was a slow process but being in her hometown was certainly helpful, having people to rally around her and support her no matter what. it started when she was offered a job at the cafe to keep her busy, then when she was sold a small beachside cottage at a very discounted price to make her home, then finally she would find herself smiling and laughing -- breathing made easier. it took time but ahna’s community became her family. 

now, ahna can be found cheerily chatting with locals and guests as she serves them coffee. she is bubbly and still a little scatterbrained, she’s the life of the party and very reminiscent of the girl she was in high school -- but with a sadness that never fully goes away. sometimes she’ll disappear for a day or two, only to show up again like nothing happened. she never tells anyone when she’s leaving or why, she just goes. 

WANTED CONNECTIONS / PLOTS

platonic  ───  unlikely  friends ,  friend from college  ,  a  nice  wholesome  best  friend  &  confidant  ,  childhood friends  ,  a  party  buddy  ,  someone who is also as free spirited as ahna and they go on adventures together  , neighbours. , any other form of friendship really

romantic  ───  first  kiss  /  first  relationship  /  first  love,  a  past  or  present  unrequited  crush  from  either  side ,  exes  on  good  or  bad  terms  (  eyes  emoji  .......  the  spice  )  ,  friends  with  benefits ,  a one  night  stand

negative  ───  someone  who  just  doesn't  click  with  them  ( this is probably someone more uptight who can’t stand how ahna seems to not have a care in the world ),  friends  who  had  a  falling  out  ,  anything else to bring the d r a m a 

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP meme from the Baali Clanbook V2 in "Vampire the Masquerade" Part 2 of 2

"Look at the world around you. No, truly look. Do you see it? The entropy slowly eating away at the fabric of existence? The world is dying."

"Existence has always teetered on the brink in some way or another."

"From the coming of prophets and gods to the turn of the millennium. Mankind has always found some way to turn the metamorphosis of life into an “end of days” scenario."

"It's not hyperbole."

"All things must come to an end. Even our universe."

"We can either fear this new existence or we can embrace it. I know which I choose. What will your decision be?"

"I find humanity both fascinating and boring."

"I find humanity both fascinating and boring. They are creatures who have risen above their state as pure beasts in the wild. They have domesticated the world, bringing it to heel under the boot of technology and enterprise. They have tamed the lightning and created weapons of such incredible potency that they could end the entire world with the push of a few buttons. But, at the same time, they cannot even control their own impulses."

"I do love seeing the hope in a victim’s eyes slowly die."

"We need to talk about vampires."

"They are all in their positions due to back-alley deals, dirty deeds, and betrayals that they fear will one day topple them."

"They are afraid. Afraid of losing power."

"Power is a cruel master."

"Do not put yourself out there in a manner that draws unwanted attention."

"Those who are worthy of your knowledge should seek you out, not the other way around."

"Use what you know to twist their desires to your own ends."

"Utilize every secret desire and urging until your “clients” are nothing more than puppets on your strings."

"Above all, however, don’t forget to clean when guests come to call. It’s embarrassing to have a bloody carpet."

"Arrogance will be the gap in their armor that you can exploit."

"They wounded ego and regret."

"That’s a level of fucked up I can’t wrap my head around."

"So easy to guide around by their rage."

"Get over it already."

"They’re not corruptors unless you want to be corrupted."

"It’s bargain basement degradation at best."

"All good rites have some semblance of pageantry to help build up psychic energy for ritual release, sure. But when you perform the rite more for the pageantry than sacrifice or offerings? You’ve missed the point."

"The beautiful ones have this fucked up perception that they are icons of style, grace, and tact."

"The punks think of themselves as whirlwinds of creative destruction."

"After all, I want to see the world break out of this nascent shell of physicality and witness the birth of a new universe."

"So, I can get behind wanting to push past pain and physical limitations."

"These. . .things will not think twice about skinning you alive and making you part of the furniture. And honestly. . .I can respect that."

"These fucking guys."

"There comes a time in everyone’s life when they look at the world around them and wonder; “Is this it? Is this everything that there is?”

"Life, if we are honest, is nothing but a series of disappointments."

"My youth was spent chasing some phantom of purpose. Some reason for us being here, for going on, day after day, living."

"My desperate pleas were met with unyielding silence."

"We all wander through the world, clinging to half-promises of something greater."

"We will find the bliss of enlightenment only after the trials of our world."

"Why was everything we did destined to age and rot?"

"There was no blissful release. There was no epiphany of understanding. No moment of realizing my place in the universe."

"We are, each of us, insignificant."

"We don’t get rich off hard work. Luck and heritage define who rises to the top."

"We don’t find enlightenment as we grow older, we only find bitterness and fear of encroaching death."

"We race to accomplish something. . .anything, that will live on after our deaths."

"I thought sensation would provoke deeper understanding. It does not. It only burns bright, then fades quickly, leaving a person yearning for the next instance of fleeting bliss."

"There is nothing. No great reward awaiting the dying. There is no great paradise for the enlightened. There are fading memories of life and the swirling maelstrom of oblivion."

"Why would anyone want to deny themselves anything knowing that, in the end, they are only fit for utter destruction and darkness?"

"Take every moment of disappointment in your life. Every hardship. Every heartbreak. And then realize that none of it matters in any form in the end."

"Fuck the universe."

"Fuck every lie and every false promise of salvation or of some “great reward” that never comes."

"Enlightenment is a trap."

"Fuck every self-styled guru that peddles street corner bliss and a side of eternal understanding."

"This universe is a fucked -up failure."

"This universe is a fucked -up failure. An experiment with no principal investigator at the helm. Let’s scrap it and start something new. Something where we can make our own purpose."

"It is the only choice we have —to grasp our destinies and forge something new out of the corpse of the old."

"The end is coming and there is no stopping it. But. . .we can accelerate it. We can end this torturous existence and craft something new and meaningful from its remains."

"We are not destroyers, nor are we heralds of destruction. We are idealists seeking to bring purpose to existence. We are scholars burdened with the horrible truth that this universe must burn so that something new and pure can take its place."

"Evil. I hate the word."

"To the point, however, the word “evil” is such a catch-all that is, at its core, quite meaningless."

"We are the midwives of eternity, here to see to the proper birth of what is to come."

"Evil may be a word that can fit us, but to the darkness, isn’t the invasive nature of light evil?"

"I do what I do out of simple necessity."

"“Good” and “evil” are terms for children."

"They are just as “evil” as we. They simply lie to themselves about it."

"I think the truth lies between these tales."

"While the stain of grievous sins can color the auras of most, yours, for some reason, remains pure and innocent."

"You may not realize it, but your very essence sings with dark power."

"You understand the state of the world. You understand how it hangs so precariously between collapse and a great rebirth in darkness."

"In these dark, twisting visions, the future is revealed in flashes of blood-soaked fate."

"They will still be a missing person and be mourned, but they will be, effectively, simply considered another statistic and efforts to seek out justice for them will fade."

"While friends and family still remember the individual and their name, any efforts to seek out justice for them or to search for them cease after the ritual is performed."

"By sharing the affections of your damned patron, you can grant infernal powers to others."

"The allure of evil can draw in the curious like a moth to a flame."

"What is your most shameful secret?"

"What do you desire the most?"

"Whom do you secretly despise?"

"The most valuable advice, then, would be to act subtle. Be calm. Act comfortable."

"Akkadian script is simple, but apparently too difficult for you to count in."

"The quest for the next horizon has always haunted your mind."

"No matter what you were doing, no matter where you were at. . .there was always the allure of the unknown calling out to you."

"The allure of history and understanding what came before was simply too great to ignore."

"You were ravenous for knowledge."

"By the end of the week, you were no longer alive."

"Cultures died out across the world. Why?"

"The great puzzle of the universe lays before you. "

"The ancients knew secrets that would sear the minds of today’s scholars."

"The old gods are my strength. They are my shield."

"Mankind has forgotten where its oldest, bloodiest rites came from."

"Your traditions were handed down to you by your parents, and to them by their parents."

"Old deities that were converted into demons and devils by Abrahamic religions were once sources of inspiration to the world."

"While you have dabbled in mainstream paganism, practitioners these days ring hollow to you."

"Their worship more out of desperation than any true passion."

"It wasn’t for you."

"You caught the attention of something in the dark."

"There is a strength in the old ways that it seems many have forgotten."

"What you are doing is not evil. It is necessary."

"Do stop squirming. It ruins the effect."

"Something was always broken inside of you. "

"Your questions cut through the niceties of social decorum."

"You weren’t ignorant of the suffering you caused. You just didn’t care."

"They love their work and the pain it inflicts."

"You? You honestly adore the look of terror ."

"After all, what is the point of your work if you do not enjoy it from time to time?"

"You know the best ways to draw out the psychic energy for a proper sacrifice."

"They will come. Have no doubt of that."

"You simply didn’t understand the need for religion."

"You were out of place."

"There is a calmness that comes from knowing the end is inevitable."

"You are existing on the precipice of a new universe and you know this."

"Your faith sustains you."

"Aren’t you a beautiful soul?"

"It was an easy lie."

"You have been an apt pupil."

"I am here to do the Devil’s work."

"Life hasn’t always sucked."

"Being homeless creates a new kind of resentment."

"People walk by, either with contempt or pity in their eyes for you. Both are an insult."

"In your anger, you lashed out, you reached for something new that could explain all the inconsistencies in the world."

"Beings from beyond time? The hell does that even mean?"

"You are the devil’s own."

"Satan was a model of freedom from tyranny."

"Your soul is foul and beyond redemption."

"Power belongs to those who are daring enough to wield it."

"You became the popular one, the one in demand, who’s very expression could elevate someone or dash their hopes."

"So, you arranged the death of your beneficiary and inherited their wealth."

"They admired the grace and style with which you brought your targets to heel and slowly destroyed them."

"It only took a week to catch your eye."

"The world may be destined to die a slow, agonizing death, but that doesn’t mean you can’t have your fun wherever you can find it."

"Who are you to judge?"

"You are only as good as your last rumor."

"It’s the thrill of the hunt that drives you and exhilarates you."

"You don’t understand. I know what breathes in the dark. I’m trying to keep it asleep."

"You were always looking for a place to fit in."

"The desire to fit in is always powerful. It can guide our actions and even our thoughts. It can shift our perspective, causing a realignment of our core values."

"Once you found some semblance of purpose you could identify with—and one that made you out to be a hero fighting back darkness, you embraced it wholeheartedly."

"You will keep doing what you know you must do."

"If they only knew that you were working to protect all of them. . .maybe they would be more grateful."

"You have a subtle contempt for modern society."

"You understand the desires that drive people to extremes. . .and you have no qualms about twisting those needs and urges to your ends."

"Everyone you meet is a tool to be used, a potential sacrifice, or a threat to be neutralized."

"You dress to impress—always in the most stylish manners according to what is in fashion."

"Use every environmental factor to your benefit when possible."

"Make good entrances and silent exits."

"You are a cutthroat negotiator when you need to be but know that sometimes the appearance of defeat can serve you better than a clear victory."

[actiobellicahq]

Happy Holidays, students! We here at ABHQ wanted to say a huge thank you to all of our members. You’ve all participated so well in recent events, and have made our rp holidays so special! We love you all dearly, and we wanted to give your characters a little holiday gift of their own just to say thank you for being wonderful.....

It will never be discovered just who was behind it, but each and every student awoke this morning to find a present sitting on their doorstep, or to find an owl interrupting their breakfast, nearly dropping a parcel in their cereal bowls. A small note seems to be attached to every single gift, neatly detailing what they all were in need of, or what their heart desired, whether they knew it or not. Better not tell the professors if you received something scandalous, students!

The following gifts were delivered:

Amycus Carrow receives a charmed suit jacket that changes colour on command. Enclosed is a note that says ‘For the charming chameleon.’

Ajax Graves receives a box with a puppy inside, a red ribbon around it’s collar. Enclosed is a note that says ‘For your personal therapy.’

Alecto Carrow receives a gold lighter that never runs out of flame, along with a note that says ‘For your pyromania and love of tobacco.’

Alexander Yilmaz receives a golden quill with infinite ink, along with a note that says ‘For the pursuit of eloquence.’

Alice Macmillan receives a defensive charmed bracelet, which sounds when someone is about to cast a spell. Enclosed is a note that says ‘For the protection of the one who protects others.’

Ambrosius Burke receives a ring that changes colour when he’s being lied to. Enclosed is a note that says ‘For the truth to be revealed.’

Analiese Crabbe receives a live crab, with a note that says ‘For you to have a Crabbey friend.’

Andromeda Black receives a kit of paint brushes that never fray, along with a note that says ‘For your colourful passion.’

Antigone Graves receives a soft blanket, charmed to have the scent of her home. Enclosed is a note that says ‘For the girl who needs a bit of her past.’

Antonin Dolohov receives a small vanishing chest, with a note that says ‘For the man with something to hide.’

Araminta Valentine receives a small zirconium dragon for her bracelet, along with a note that says ‘For someone who’s spirit never gets extinguished.’

Archibald Graves receives a brooch of his family crest, along with a note that says ‘For your homesickness.’

Arthur Weasley receives a Rube Goldberg machine, along with a note that says ‘For the most muggle wizard I’ve ever known.

Bellatrix Lestrange receives a fine silver and emerald bracelet with ‘BL + RL’ etched into the back of it. Enclosed is a note that says ‘For your recent vows.’

Benjy Fenwick receives an indestructible football he’d been eyeing up in Hogsmeade, along with a note that says ‘For someone with lots of energy to burn.’

Bilius Weasley receives an extensive healing kit, with a note that says ‘For you to start down your path.’

Calista Travers receives an antique jade hair ornament, with her initials etched in the underside of it, along with a note that says ‘For the jewel of her mother’s eye.’

Charlie Wood receives an older but breathtaking violin, along with a note that says ‘For the ears of your closest.’

Dahey Ryan receives a first edition copy of Theories of Transubstantial Transfiguration, which is signed by the author. Enclosed is a note that reads ‘For the boy who yearns for knowledge.’

Daisy Hookum receives a mini garden of self-watering succulents, with a note that says ‘For the sun that shines through your window.’

Damocles Belby receives a phial containing werewolf fur, along with a note that says ‘For the most curious of us all.’

Declan Macmillan receives a colour changing scarf and a smaller matching one for Sir Sprinkle. Enclosed is a note that reads ‘For you and the little one to stay warm.’

Dirk Cresswell receives a trunk that automatically organizes his belongings, along with a note that says ‘For your knick knacks.’

Dolores Umbridge receives a white fluffy ball resembling a kitten. The collar jingles when she’s picked up. Enclosed is a note that says ‘For someone who will never have enough cats.’

Dorcas Meadowes receives a book of advanced old texts, along with a note that says ‘For you to put to good use.’

Doris Purkiss recieves a journal that hides any entry the reader wishes, along with a note that says ‘For your secrets.’

Edith Fortescue receives a locked box with no key. The outside seems to have carved ancient runes, one on each side of the box. What ever could they mean? Enclosed is a note that says ‘For the riddler among us.’

Ellerie Kiriakis receives an enchanted painting of her mother, along with a note that says ‘For her spitting image.’

Emmeline Vance receives a framed enchanted collage of her favourite places, along with a note that says ‘For those days when you’d rather be somewhere else.’

Evan Rosier receives a sneakoscope, along with a note that says ‘For the devious and deceitful.’

Evelyn Kiriakis receives a Mappa Mundi, along with a note that says ‘For the seeker of creatures of every kind.’

Fabian Prewett receives a phial of Angel's Trumpet Draught, along with a note that says ‘For protection or defense, whatever you shall need it for.’

Frank Longbottom receives an Auror official study manual, along with a note that says ‘For you to be prepared.’

Gideon Prewett receives a jacket with his last name sewn into the back, which magically fits ever so perfectly. Enclosed is a note that says ‘For someone who deserves to show off his name.’

Gilderoy Lockhart receives a charmed handheld mirror that compliments it’s owner, along with a note that says ‘For someone who never gets tired of flattery.’

Guinevere Montague receives a box with a small egg. Who knows what will hatch out of it? Enclosed is a note that says ‘For your love of all things destructive.‘

Gwenog Jones receives a new set of Quidditch leathers, along with a note that says ‘For the player who’s fire on the field.’

Halim Gamal receives a small pouch of glistening seeds. What will they bloom? Enclosed is a note that says ‘For every season.’

Harriet Arya receives a copy of Moste Potente Potions, along with a note that says ‘For good, not for evil.’

Isabella De Rose receives a colour changing blush, along with a note that says ‘For the fairest.’

Jackson Flint receives a beetle broach. It seems to light up every now and then, but why? Enclosed is a note that says ‘For not only your secrets.’

James Potter receives a box of infinite-refilling bertie botts every flavour beans, along with a note that says ‘For your insatiable sweet tooth.’

Jimi Macintosh receives a leather jacket that never fades or tarnishes, along with a note that says ‘For the punk rock icon of the school.’

Kingsley Shacklebolt receives a foe-glass, with a note that says ‘For keeping an eye on those who’s hearts are not as pure.’

Lily Evans receives a pair of platform shoes that she’d spotted in Hogsmeade a few weeks earlier and loved. Enclosed is a note that says ‘For the girl who gives her all without expecting anything in return.’

Lorcan d'Eath receives a self-tuning guitar, along with a note that says ‘For us all to enjoy.’

Lucius Malfoy receives golden horseshoes, along with a note that says ‘For the most pampered, prestigious Malfoy.’

Ludo Bagman receives an extremely large first aid kit, along with a note that says ‘For your love of getting injured.’

Mack Yaxley receives a silver lighter that never runs out of flame, along with a note that says ‘For your love of watching things burn down.’

Mara Lovelace receives an antique chest filled with equipment to press flowers, along with a note that says ‘For the most precious flower among us.’

Marlene McKinnon receives a pair of rollerskates that won’t ever fray or tear, along with a note that says ‘For the adventurous lion.’

Mary Macdonald receives a box full of Hogwarts themed cookie cutters, including a very Fabian looking Quidditch set. Enclosed is a note that says ‘For the girl who bakes to make others smile.’

Mason Macdonald receives a pot plant that apparates whenever it’s needed, along with a note that says ‘For your mobile plant needs.’

Millicent Bagnold receives an everlasting sugar quill, which one can write with. Enclosed is a note that says ‘For bursts of creative energy.’

Molly Prewett receives a chicken, along with a note that says ‘For the weirder Prewett.’

Mordred Abbott receives a large book of sheet music, which is charmed to show an entire piece on a single page, no matter how long. It moves with the music. Enclosed is a note that says ‘For music to our ears.’

Morgana Killick recieves a small pouch of False Pennyroyal seeds. Enclosed is a note that says ‘For a rare soul to have a rare flower.’

Narcissa Black receives a boxed moth, one of the rarest kinds in the world. Enclosed is a note that says ‘For the weird and wonderful.’

Nikoli Gallagher receives coloured charcoal that never runs out, along with a note that says ‘For those days when you’re feeling inspired.’

Nimue Mackenna receives a box of rare records, all by her favourite artists. Enclosed is a note that says ‘For an old soul.’

Otto Bagman receives a toaster that mysteriously cooks every slice of toast to perfection. Enclosed is a note that says ‘For your curiosity of everything muggle.’

Pandora Joubert receives a deck of beautifully hand drawn tarot cards, some of which sparkle in the light. Enclosed is a note that says ‘For your love of the future, past and present.’

Paris Avery receives a pure silver flask with his initials etched into the front, along with a note that says ‘For your coping mechanism.’

Peter Pettigrew receives an indestructible hamster wheel, along with a note that says ‘For the one with whiskers.’

Ramona d'Eath receives a vial of unicorn blood, along with a note that says ‘For a lost soul.’

Reginald Cattermole receives a bass guitar that he’d been eyeing in Hogsmeade, along with a note that says ‘For your love of music.’

Regulus Black receives a leather bound notebook, along with a silver quill that has infinite ink. Enclosed is a note that says ‘For the prodigal son.’

Remus Lupin receives a stone that gives off sunlight when touched, along with a note that says ‘For those times where the moon is too bright.’

Rita Skeeter receives a green quill that has an infinite supply of ink, along with a note that says ‘For someone who never tires of words.’

Rodolphus Lestrange receives a watch with ‘RL + BL’ etched onto the back of it. Enclosed is a note that says ‘For your recent vows.’

Rust Wilkes receives a large diamond-shaped rock, which seems to have something enclosed inside of it, along with a note that says ‘For the curious and the cursed.’

Sebastian Laviscount receives a box of infinite-refilling Norwegian candies, with a note that says ‘For that post-Quidditch sugar rush.’

Seraphina Parkinson receives a pair of dragon hide defensive pads, with a note that says ‘For the girl who likes to play rough.’

Sirius Black receives a set of keys, along with a map of the black lake that has an ‘X’ scribbled in the center. Enclosed is a note that says ‘For my entertainment as well as yours.’

Sybill Trelawney receives a large crystal ball (disguised in a hat box), along with a note that says ‘For the future.’

Sylvie Moody receives The Monster Book of Monsters, along with a note that says ‘For your biting kink, or your thirst for knowledge, whichever is stronger.’

Ted Tonks receives a shape-shifting mustache, with a note that says ‘For all your disguising needs.’

Tilden Toots receives a single flower that changes colour depending on the day of the week and the weather, along with a note that says ‘For our beloved gardener.’

Tobias Hemming receives a sketchbook that enables the sketches to move, along with a note that says ‘For your art to come to life.’

Tristan Mulciber receives a set of embellished brass knuckles, along with a note that says ‘For whatever or whoever your heart desires.’

Valerie Petrov receives a very old, well cared for book on Magical Creatures. Enclosed is a note that says ‘For both personal and professional use.’

Walden Macnair receives a velvet clothed cage, that very suspiciously squawks. Enclosed is a note that says ‘For the man on the bench with the bird seeds.’

(Please note that if your character has received a pet or item of some kind that doesn’t comply with Hogwarts rules or one that can slide under the radar safely, they have been delivered to and must stay at their character’s home!)

Some of these gifts aren’t obviously the most attainable or realistic of gifts, but that’s all part of the fun! We wanted to spoil you all and show you just how much we appreciate you being a part of the rp, as we fast approach the one year mark!

[caithelps]

Inspired by True Events by Tori Kelly RP Sentence Starters: Part 1 (feel free to change name(s), pronouns, etc as needed)

Coffee: 

“I envy the cup of coffee that kisses you every morning”

“The pillow caressing your cheek when you are tired and yawning”

“I'm jealous of the steering wheel you wrap your hands around”

“That seatbelt on your chest, hearing your heart, holding you down”

“I would jump over the edge for you, to get to you”

“I'd walk an ocean to get to you, next to you”

“It's unfair cause I'm missing you way too much”

“I'm missing you way too much”

“I'm wishing you were right here because”

“I know that it's so silly of me”

“To be jealous of all these stupid things”

“Am I crazy to want to hold you like clothes on your body?”

“I would trade places with the air that rushes by you so softly”

“You got the things I need but they're always out of reach”

“That I always have to dream to get you next to me”

"It's unfair”

“Even the stars that shine get to see you at night”

“It all reminds me of you and maybe that's the reason why I'm always missing you way too much"

"I'm wishing you were out here because”

“I'm missing you”

“It's so silly of me”

12/16/1992

“If you could zoom on the baby”

“Here”

“She likes looking at Daddy, that's what she likes”

“That's why it's..”

“All I know, Daddy looks like a video camera”

“No, she can see through this 'cause she knows that I love her”

Change Your Mind:

“He came to me like a song”

“Like one I knew all along”

“And daddy he got a hold on me”

“I know you think that it's wrong”

“But he grew on me like a rose"

“The sweetest I've ever known"

“I swear that he got a hold on me"

“And now I can't let him go"

“No one ever said it was easy”

“And I love him”

“You gotta believe me

“No, it don't seem right”

“But I'll change your mind”

“Trust in me”

“I'ma need your blessing”

“Oh, I love him”

“I'm confessing”

“If it takes my life”

“I'ma change your mind”

“He spoke to me like the rain"

“I knew that I would have to see him again”

“As he poured out his heart on me”

“I was a moth to a flame”

“You look at me like the sun”

"I can see that your mind's made up”

“I swear that he is the one”

Language:

“Let me choose my words real carefully”

“Don't let me be misunderstood, no”

“'Cause I don't wanna say something I don't really mean”

“I just wanna love you real good”

“They always say, ‘Don't go to bed angry’”

“So it's been days since I got some sleep"

“I say, ‘I miss you’, you take it as I'm tryna guilt you”

“Like I'm insecure”

“This quiet game ain't working out for me”

“Leave your pride, I'll leave mine”

“Lord knows I need patience with ya”

“So I can explain this to ya”

“I'm tryna learn your language, sugar”

“We got issues, so what?”

“It's gonna be worth it when it's over”

“Don't hear me wrong, I know I ain't perfect”

“It won't be long till my words cause your hurtin'”

“You bring up something I don't remember saying”

“It's like I'm twistin' the knife”

“Please just hang on, yeah, I'm putting that work in”

“So you can learn we need to”

2 Places:

“These days I keep finding myself caught in between”

“Am I awake or am I walking in my sleep?”

“Just never know what I'll be feeling today”

“Happy or sad it could go either way”

“One minute I'll be fine then I don't know how to feel”

“I'm in between the two, standing still and on the run”

“Don't know what to do, I'm in two places at once”

“I feel like the moon, tryna to stay up for the sun”

“Heart is so confused, 'cause it's two places at once”

“I'm always spinning back and forth, I'm up and down”

“My heads all over the place and I'm stuck on the ground”

“Just look at the birds, they only know how to fly”

“Up in the clouds, they never worry like I do”

“One hand holds onto hope, the other's filled with doubt”

“The same things that make me smile are the same things that make me cry”

“The same things that comfort me are keeping me up at night”

“I must be going numb, maybe it's all because”

“I'm feeling everything and I feel it all at once”

[savagecuhnt]

🪤🙈🌌🎵👑📎 [ for rose ]

🪤 MOUSE TRAP - what will always lure them into certain danger? a loved one in danger? a promise of something they are always searching for? This is a hard one. Rose gravitates towards danger like moth to a flame. She has a sort of god complex and will put herself in dangerous situations just to see if she'll make it out on top, not caring if she doesn't survive, but of course, she does...As much of a savage as she may think she is, she will always be quick to sacrifice herself for a loved one...So I will agree to the idea of a loved one in danger luring her to her demise.

🙈 SEE-NO-EVIL - whats a side of your oc that they don't want to show other people? any side that shows weakness. No matter the relationship, she refuses to fully allow anyone to see just how fragile she is and once was. From her childhood trauma, to who she was before her abilities...it's a side she locks away deep within, refusing to allow herself and for other's to see her that weak ever again.

🌌 MILKY WAY - what was the inspiration behind your oc? what was the first thing you decided about them? Rose was a VERY different OC when I first created her (original concept comes from a dream I had in middle school that I later wrote short stories of, then my bestfriend introduced me to tumblr and the Rp community and so I decided to bring her back and rewrite her character). She was learning to deal with her trauma and depression as a normal human being. She used to work in a coffee shop and paint, she would have nightmares and visions and soon I slowly began to transform her...There was a point I made a side blog for an alternative version of her named ROSIE POSIE, who was pretty much an unhinged, abusive, psychotic, selfish dickhead... after a lot of plotting and rewriting, she has now become the Oc she is today!

🎵 MUSIC NOTE - what is their playlist like? their favourite artists? do you associate a particular song with them? uhhh, I never really focus too much on her music, usually only focusing on songs that help me visualize scenes with her. Placebo-Every you and every me I feel is a good song that represents her outlook on love and just how selfish she is, Marilyn manson-The nobodies is a good one, In this moment-Adrenelize. i would like to think Rose listens to a lot of grunge, industrial goth, and rock. It all really depends her mood! (had to add this one PIXIES-WHERE IS MY MIND)

👑 CROWN - what does your oc want to be remembered as? why? At this point in her life I don't think she cares to be remembered. She would love to forget herself. I think her dream would be to finally die and simply drift into nothingness. She has a lot of self hate, a lot of unanswered questions about her past, and nothing tying her to this world....but there's also that part of her that wants power and respect and to not have to live in the shadows...in the project version of her, she wants to just live how she wants with no repercussions, no responsibilities, just living in the moment with her loved ones doing what they do best wreaking havock.

📎 PAPERCLIP - a random fact. she grew up in a psychiatric hospital, at first only because her legal guardian was a nurse there and they had no place to stay so the head administrator offered them a room in the basement...not too long after, Rose was hospitalized to keep her from speaking of the unspeakable things done to her while staying there. She was meant to look crazy, when she wasn't, which slowly manifested real mental health issues.

[ahvie-voidsinger]

[RP] The Vol’dun Showdown, Part 1.5

A chilling breeze whistled through the bristling sunbleached skies, picking up pockets of sand and blowing them across the towering dunes. Or, at least, the void elf was fairly certain it was a chilling breeze because it contrasted vividly with the unusual heat she felt beneath the embrace of her sentient voidcloak.

The shadows were always warm and comforting, as though coaxing a moth to the flame. She had yet to fully explore them -- and despite her adventurous nature, she was in no hurry to do so. Some things were better left hidden, buried and imprisoned.

Her voidcloak wrapped around her tightly in the wind, snugly conforming to the subtle curves of her body beneath her inky black leather bodysuit. The void elf sniffed, whether from impatience or from curiosity wasn’t clear. The refreshing gales of the windswept sands of Vol’dun smelled sugary, dry and full of dread. Wartime was afoot now more than ever, even in the aftermath of the Alliance’s invasion. Both sides were keenly aware of garrison forces maintaining a presence distant from one another, but ... it smelled good. And Ahvie didn’t like that one bit.

The desertlike sweetness of the blasted and ancient landscape reminded the crouching ren’dorei of better times in an equally parched foreign land. Back when she still drank in the Light and Shadow alike. Years ago, Alliance and Horde still fought each other amid a painfully obvious attempt from a third party to take advantage of the chaos to sneak a superweapon right under their noses. One of many Uldum campaigns, Ahvie risked a smile as the memories of her first encounter with The Seventy-Third resurfaced, warming her heart in a way the void never had.

Then, she was a blood elf clad in a much more suggestive crimson bodysuit and flowing hooded cloak. Then, she dared to disobey orders and seek social interaction with members of the Alliance. Then, she risked breaking bread and sharing music and stories with strangers that were less hostile than the Warchief had let on. Then, she had laughed, hoped and lived a waking dream of the potential both sides could find common ground.

No such camaraderie was present now. The euphoric dream of the good old days had since been twisted into a corrupted nightmare, as though Malfurion and his wardens never cleansed Xavius’ corruption from the true dream. Ahvie dreamed about what the Emerald Dream must be like, but now she wasn’t sure if those dreams were originally hers or some dark portent of the drowned god. N’Zoth drank on everyone’s desires, and sometimes hubris became manifest as cruel reflections of a world that should have been.

“Many such shadows have gone unaltered, lighting the way for the blind to see the truth of their prison. How little children learn,” Ahvie muttered to herself, barely aware of what she was saying.

Her voidcloak rustled as though the wind had blown against it, but no such breeze had returned. A sultry, girlish voice spoke in Ahvie’s head through the bond they shared.

“ThErE yOu Go AgAiN. sPeAkInG iN tHe OlD tOnGuE,” the voice said with a giggle. “wAkE uP, aHvIe.”

The void elf shuddered almost violently, and a rippled passed through her inky leather armor. Ahvie was vaguely aware of how she felt through her suit as though it had become her new skin, but her mind’s eye was pulled through to reality as a fisherman’s hook would a complacent minnow. She blinked a few times, her cerulean orbs of unnatural void light the only beacons of untruth suggesting that a creature lurked in the shadows of a rocky outcropping.

Ahvie sighed, exhaling as though only just having come up for air after a long dive. “Thanks, Perse. It’s easy to get lost in my own head lately. I miss what used to be.”

The voidcloak whom Ahvie had affectionately called ‘Perse’ laughed in an unsteady, off-key musical manner. “aS dO i, LiTtLe StOrM. i HaD fOrM, wAs CoMpLeTe, A cRiMsOn AnGeL tO sInG dEaTh In EaRs Of SaIlOrS.”

Ahvie had heard this before, but smiled internally at the mental image. Her memories were already suspect, prone to being altered or corrupted by N’Zoth, but she couldn’t help but wonder if she hadn’t been the very bloody angel her cloak had been referring to. A radiant and beautiful healer, sheathed in tight and flowing red silks, commanding the hearts and minds of her fellow pirates. What remained as a kernel of doubt like a bit of food she was choking on, was whether her cloak gained sentience after her void accident … or whether Perse indeed used to be a siren of the seas who saw Ahvie as a kindred spirit, cast about in the storm roiled by the old gods.

“I bet you were beautiful and terrible to behold. A woman after my own heart,” Ahvie said with a hint of a grin.

The voidcloak hugged her tighter in certain places around her body, if only briefly, which Ahvie didn’t mind but still responded with a stifled gasp. “wE bOtH wErE, sIsTeR. wHaT sQuAlL sHaLl We FiGhT tOnIgHt?”

“We’re keeping an eye on Fey Fey. The major battles might be over for now, but she still is stationed on the front,” and as though to emphasize this, the ren’dorei leaned forward, her glowing eyes fixated on the Horde camp below.

The sun was beginning to set, and the shadows cast by the ancient ruins and rocky cliffs grew longer and deeper.

“tHiNkInG oF yOuR … hMmMm … LiTtLe SiStEr?” Perse hummed with another giggle.  Ahvie’s eyes twitched at the same time her ears did, and she relented.

“Sure, she does remind me of my family. They’re still safe, for now, in the backwaters of Eversong. Away from war. Fey… she’s —“

“sTiLl YoUnG,” followed by a pause, almost a gasp of unexpected discovery echoing in her mind. “tHe ShAdOwS wHiSpEr, AhViE.”

The elf didn’t bat an eye, her eyes focused and following the armored paladin making her way through the Horde camp. Her ears, however, began twitching again. “Don’t they always? What do they say?”

A longer pause. Maybe Perse was listening with whatever ears she had… or maybe she was listening through Ahvie’s ears. That was a weird thought.

“dAnGeR aBoUt. rEfLeCtIoNs GoInG aLtErEd. An EnIgMa RoIlInG tHe LiGhT.”

Ahvie’s eyes darted about briefly, daring to lose sight of Feyhana to scan the horizon for that disturbance both of them felt. The hidden hand of N’Zoth was distinctly heavy the past few weeks, but this was different. This was something Ahvie hadn’t felt since her last visit to Stormwind. Something familiar, but also sinister.

Ahvie squinted as her voidcloak shifted in the breeze to shield her eyes from the dimming rays of the sunset. It wasn’t as bad this time as watching Mythrax rise from the deep, but her gut told her that she should be on guard. She hopped down from her perch to the sands below, making not a sound as she landed.

Tumbling and rolling into the crevices unguarded by even the dark rangers, Ahvie’s cloak balled up around her and allowed the rogue to blend in with the inky blackness of approaching night.

As the void elf darted from shadow to shadow to avoid the radiant pools of torchlight emerging across the Horde camp, she could distinctly smell the font of Light from Fey’s heart, and felt it grow more distant, away from the camp. Toward no-mans-land… and alone.

“dAnGeRoUs To PaTrOl AlOnE. eVeN yOu RiSkEd MuCh To dO sO.”

“Ever wonder if we were together all along?”

“mMmMmMm…” Perse hummed as the pair frolicked among the growing void cast by nearby soldiers and bonfires. “mAnY oLd OnEs WeRe TraPpEd LiKe Me, RoBbEd Of ThEiR iMmOrTaL fLeSh.”

Ahvie grimaced internally internally at that, and she quickened her pace, trying to make up for lost time to more closely shadow her old friend.

Within a minute, she had reached the periphery of the Horde camp and got away with an Ahvie-like desire to cop the feel of one of the Dark Rangers before their red eyes could focus on the slippery mass of shadows left behind by the voidcloak.

Breathing a sigh of relief, the ren’dorei relaxed some as she crested one of the colossal sand dunes and put herself out of line of sight of the Horde sentries. Here, in the dimming sunlight, the absence of luminescene created periodic abysses that shifted with the rapidly cooling wind.

Ahvie spoke to Perse in her mind’s eye, swearing off using her physical voice until dawn had returned.

What do you sense, Perse?

“tHe CiRcLe Of StArS hAs WrItTeN a NeW sOnG.”

Ahvie continued trudging up the next sand bank, Fey’s beaconlike presence within earshot. She could practically taste her Light from this distance.

… And what does she sing of?

“tHaT tHe ChIlDrEn Of ThE vOiD mAkE tHeIr OwN fAtE.”

Ahvie froze in her tracks, daring to pause her friendly stalking to dwell just on that moment. That terrible, glorious, awe-inspiring thought. There were many things Ahvie couldn’t understand about the puzzles of the Void, the riddles she and others often spoke in when the old ones gripped their mind and bodies. But she knew long ago, back during the Legion invasion, that the Circle of Stars was a prisoner much like her, like Perse and like most of the void elves. Only so much more… and often was misunderstood. But the context? Why sing a song of sixpence now?

Make their own …?

“yEs. NeArBy.”

Ahvie reached out with her mind and drew on the pool of void in her corrupted heart, and teleported a few feet forward, appearing atop the sand dune in an instant. Harsh whispers and crass insane laughter as quiet as the sand crunching beneath her feet followed in her wake, only to die out with the afternoon breeze. As the tendrils of shadow peeled away from her, Ahvie looked down at where Fey had been below, her voidcloak rippling and sailing in the desert gale like a proud flag.

Feyhana was gone, but in the paladin’s stead was an ominous sinkhole in a rotted, drying patch of mud and dirt. Ahvie sprinted down to its edge, drawing on more and more void energy from around her and within to muffle the sounds of her leather against the sand. Coming to a halt at the edge of the pit, the ren’dorei crouched at the cusp and leaned forward slightly, Perse wrapping her in a concealing shroud of misty, inky night.

Feyhana was alive, and although she appeared wounded and even bloodied from the fall, her Light still beat as a lighthouse in the sea of encroaching night. Then a voice echoed from below. Not a voice, though… a whisper.

“The Light is with you, young Fey…” to which the young sin’dorei spun around at her surroundings, clad barely in the light of the setting sun. “ … but you are not a paladin yet.”

That heavy knot in her mind grew more distinct, as though one such reflection of the evening had become manifest just meters below her. Instinctively, she embraced the hissing of the void rampant in Vol’dun, and drank in the power to mask as much of her presence as possible. To become one with the void in order to hide from the void.

The flood of awareness, wisdom, experience, insanity and emotions boiled around her as a hurricane, and Ahvie almost was caught up in its floodwaters if it wasn’t for a tether of viscera and blood holding her mind and heart steady, the lone mast yet unbroken in the chittering echoes of Nyalotha.

“dOnT gO aDrIfT, sIsTeR. sTaY wItH mE. wE wIlL nOt Be sLaVeS aGaIn. NzzzzzzzOtH sEeKs A nEw SoUl FoR hIs – “

Oh Blessed Sun, thank you! What the fel is all this?!

“eVeRy ChOrUs HaS sPlInTeReD nOw ThAt ShE iS fReE. lIStEn…”

And Ahvie’s world refocused into the now, the physical world of the real, and her ears twitched as she heard quite perfectly the whisper of an entirely different entity below her, just out of sight.

“Don’t act so surprised. You should have known this was coming eventually,” said a male voice teeming with vibrato and snarky edge. Another ren’dorei.

Which would explain the familiar yet terrifying sense of kindred she could taste in the edge of her mind. She hoped against all hope that her embrace of the Old Gods’ symphony, however temporary she might have intended it to be, would keep the other void elf from precisely placing his finger on who or what she was. Or where.

If he can’t sense me at all, I might be able to tell what’s going on and maybe do something about it if Fey is in danger.

“sHe Is mOsT dEfInItElY iN dAnGeR,” Perse said in reply to her thoughts.

“The Light is indeed your ally, Fey. Strong, but fleeting,” the man mumbled in the pit below, confident. “Mine is the dark, and if nothing else, it is patient.”

Ahvie didn’t like the sound of that, and from what she could tell from Fey’s expression, neither did the young woman. Holding a hand to her wounds, Feyhana was bleeding both life and Light. And, as every creature of the night was well aware without even looking at it, the sun was quickly disappearing from view.

Ahvie tensed, drawing her twin ghostblades in each hand, their ethereal metal glowing eerily and gracefully in the growing shadows. Perse wrapped around Ahvie’s neck and face, hiding all but her eyes as the sentient garment flared out from behind her as a banner in the headwinds. The warmth of the void and the raging choir of insanity played at the periphery of Ahvie’s senses while she focused on the eye of the storm.

She waited on a knife’s edge for the right moment to save her friend if she would have to.

[wardenred]

Whumptember 19: "You are not a hero."

I'm once again not sure if this even fully qualifies as whump, but... it's implied? :D

"You are not a hero. You’re a child playing dress up. Now take off that silly mask and go home."

Charlie's heart was done trying to break through their ribcage and proceeded to flutter somewhere in their throat. They swallowed several times in a row, trying to recover their voice. The villain was already turning away, ready to stalk off into the night, but his words kept echoing in Charlie's skull: matter-of-fact, barely laced with disdain.

This was their chance. They couldn't let their anxiety blow it for them. They couldn't.

The villain's black-clad form was about to get swallowed by the night.

"You're right!" Charlie called desperately after him. It came out as an embarrassing squeak, and they cleared their throat before trying again. "You're right. I'm not a hero. I don't even want to be one. I've never wanted that."

For a few moments, they were so certain they were talking to the empty space. But they blinked, they took a step forward, and, miracle of miracles, the villain was still there. He had stopped, his broad-shouldered shape a faint outline in the darkest corner of the junkyard, between a useless crooked lamppost and the carcass of a long-dead car.

"How curious," he drawled after a pause so long that Charlie had forgotten how to breathe, re-learned this skill, lost it again, and became painfully aware of their uncontrollable nervous trembling. "Next, you're going to tell me that League of yours is kidnapping kids and forcing them to fight evil?"

Charlie's supervisor had warned them the villain would ask them. She had also strongly suggested not going along with it. Even though it was technically true.

"Not that I know of," they said, and hoped the way they stalled and stumbled could easily be attributed to their stupid anxiety. "I wasn't kidnapped. I—I fought to get in, actually. But I didn't do it so I could stay." Their tongue was sticking to the roof of their mouth. They had to swallow again, and then to fight against choking. "I did it so I could get to you."

"Get to me," the villain repeated, emotionless.

"Yes. You... You killed my parents, you know."

"I have killed many parents."

"I'm very grateful to you for that. Not for, you know, the many. Um. For mine. They were, they were really bad people, so. Yeah."

"There are easier ways to thank me than joining my enemies and getting sent on a suicide mission," the villain remarked. "You could have written a letter. I do read fan mail sometimes."

The night was getting chillier, or maybe Charlie had reached that stage where their body refused to process warmth. This was a ridiculous plan. It had seemed doable back in the compound, when they'd been rehearsing with their supervisor. Now, though? It was bonkers. Why they'd ever agreed to do this, they had no idea.

"It's not that. I." They swallowed once more; it was pure bile. "I want to join you. I know I've made a bad first impression, but I'm good with things that are not..." They went for a broad sweeping gesture and ended up just angling their arm weirdly like a broken robot. "This. Like computers. And numbers. I'm really good at numbers and making them make sense. And, and..." Stop, they begged themself, just stop now, you've said all you've been instructed to say, don't go off script, you know you can't improvise. "And my entire surviving family is in the League. My brother, and both of my cousins, and my aunt. My aunt is Snailscale, actually. We're on good terms."

"Is that so?"

Crap. Crap, fuck, shit, why did they have to say it?

"Yeah."

Another pause, and then, "Well, tell you what. Bring me the keys to all four Snailscale's apartments and copies of her legal IDs, for her League and civilian identities alike, and then we can continue this conversation."

They were so in over their head.

[wardenred]

Whumptember 18: "You said I'd be safe here"

Apparently, Flame did get rescued!

"I thought you said I'd be safe here."

Moth shrugs, stretching his legs. He's in full costume, mask included, even though Flame has already seen his face more than once. Come to think of it, he's always in full costume whenever he comes here. He's far more inclined to tug the mask off on a random rooftop or in the middle of a nighttime street than in this supposed safe house. That realization is not reassuring. And far too delayed for Flame's liking, and that in itself is another perfect reason for some invigorating paranoia.

"Technically, I said your former employers wouldn't be able to find you here as long as you play by my rules and don't go out alone. No one is ever completely safe with me, not if I can help it. It's part of my charm."

Flame grits his teeth. "You know what I mean."

"No, actually, I don't. But I'm trying to guess. Is this another field day for your brain bugs?"

"The term is PTSD, thank you very much."

The fabric of Moth's mask creases slightly over where his nose should be. "I can never get the order of those letters right, you know. Brain bugs it is. Anyway, what brought this on?"

The truth is, Flame hardly knows. Maybe it's the constant low buzz of the surveillance system. Maybe it's because he once again tried to use his powers today, twice, and once again failed. Maybe it's just that there's so little to do here, outside of Moth's visits, and he only has his thoughts to keep him company. That has never bode well for his mental state.

"You never told me who your contacts were," he says. "The ones who helped you break me out."

"I didn't," Moth agrees readily. "Can't compromise their identities in case you decide you're done with my villainous hospitality and stage a daring escape."

Flame snorts. Escape. Right. Like he's ever been good at those. His forte is more digging himself into impossible holes and then waiting for somebody else to maybe dig him out. In the past, it used to be Batshit and his other teammates. Sometimes even Starlight, and damn, thinking about his supervisor's change of heart still hurts. He wonders sometimes if Starlight feels the same when they think of him. According to them, after all, Flame is the traitor in this scenario.

Who knows what the truth is. It changes so fast these days, depending on the point of view. Life is like a broken kaleidoscope, and Flame has no hope of putting it back together.

Anyway. It's Moth whom he owes all the digging out these days, and he knows he should be grateful. Probably. Maybe. But it's kind of hard to be that when he spends most of his time in a bugged, gray, monotonous flat with the villain as his only bridge to human contact.

It started the same way with the League, too, back when he was fresh out of the hospital, no memory, no identity, no purpose. They called it quarantine. He called it a special way to lose his trust before they even bothered to gain it. Eventually, it worked out.

Or so he thought. If it actually worked out, he wouldn't be here now, would he?

"Hey." Moth's voice is hook, line, and sinker, pulling him out of his thoughts. "You've got nothing to worry about, objectively. You've been playing by the rules, right?" He gives a meaningful look to the camera in the corner. "I'd know if you weren't. As long as you keep being a good boy, nothing bad is gonna happen."

"Never in my life have I been anything remotely resembling a good boy."

"Must be something special about me, then, since you so often are for me."

Flame bristles.

[wardenred]

Whumptember 3: "This Can't Be It"

Based on a RP a friend and I have had going on for years. I think I'll be coming back to it again this month. Superheroes are fun to torture.

This can't be it.

There is nothing left to breathe but the smoke. The air itself is burning, along with the redwood furniture and the velvet curtains, the countless invaluable documents and photographs in all those unlocked chests, all the evidence of what Flame's life could have been. The life he's been hunting for. The life he doesn't even remember. So close, for the very first time, and never so far out of reach.

He curls on the thick smoldering carpet, coughing his lungs out, and wow, isn't this the most ridiculous way to go? He's supposed to be the strongest pyrokinetic in this whole cursed city. That's the entire reason he's been able to stay on the Force for so long. Why they have tolerated his sloppiness, his "unconventional methods," his inability to come to terms with his amnesia. He is the master of fire. Flame itself. 

But the depowering toxin is coursing through his system, and it's clear his luck has run out.

Still, he tries. He twists around, stretching his fingers out to the brightest flare, and wills it to die down. To burn in a different direction. To bend to his call and clear a way out of him. 

The flame ragen on, governed by nothing except the merciless laws of physics.

A part of him still hopes Batshit might come back for him. Through his tears (cough-induced, or perhaps smoke-induced, certainly there is no other reason), he sometimes thinks he catches glimpses of a white costume behind the collapsed ceiling beams. It's nothing but wishful thinking, though, the last desperate hallucination of a suffocating mind. She's not there. She chose to save the child and not him.

To be fair, if she chose him over that small, innocent girl, she wouldn't be his best friend.

Can't she come back for him, though? Can't anyone? It's not that he wants to be saved. He'd much rather prefer to save himself. He's always hated being rescued—but between humiliation and death, the choice is obvious.

This can't be it. It can't be over. I have things to live for, goals to chase.

I don't even know who I am yet.

The sparks on the carpet grow, turn into proper flickers, crawl toward his face. He tries to grab control of them again, and he fails, fails, fails.

There's that pale spot again, moving through the edges of the room, off-white, soot-stained. Human-shaped. Batshit, he wants to think, but he can't. That's not her costume. Not her mask. That's not real.

That's...

"Well, hello there," a familiar voice drawls. The faceted goggles stare down at him impassively. "Funny, I distinctly remember you telling me fire could never hurt you. I guess you were simply trying to make an impression."

Flame is torn between Please, be a hallucination and Please, be real.

The damn villain crouches by his side, slings Flame's arm over his skinny shoulder, props him up. He's too solid to be a product of Flame's imagination and stronger than a skinny guy like him is allowed to be.

"What—" Flame tries. "What—"

His throat is too dry to form more words than that. His knees keep buckling under him.

Across the room, a window shatters, spraying grass into the dark, siren-filled night. 

"Hold tight, sweetheart." The villain’s breath against Flame's ear is hotter than the air around them. "Time to learn to fly."

[wardenred]

Angstober 21: Can't Save Everyone

Remember Flame? Let's torture him some more. This may or may not be a nightmare sequence. Also, I'm not really happy about how it turned out tbh, but I guess it's also not completely awful.

Moth’s hold on Flame’s shoulder was crushing.

“You can’t save everyone. And some people aren’t even worth saving.”

Flame knew by now it was futile to struggle against his grip, but he did so anyway. His eyes were fixed on the column of fire that used to be a skyscraper. The HQ. The building where his post-amnesia life began, where it almost ended.

Batshit. Starlight. Chamomile. So many people who must be there right this moment and who had nothing to do with the bosses’ scheming. People who were just doing their job: saving others, preventing crimes and incidents. Led by their own sense of justice.

“I mean, I have these powers, might as well put them to some use.”

“I won’t deny this is a bad way to make the world a better place. But this is the one we’ve got.”

“Just stay put and let me help.”

They were his enemies, in the end. They had been his friends.

They didn’t deserve this, no matter who they worked for.

“There are shelters in the basement,” Flame whispered. The air all around them was getting hotter and hotter. “And tunnels leading away from the building. Maybe...”

“I was the one who broke you out of one of those shelters two months ago. Don’t you think I know how to seal them off?”

Flame once again tried to shake off Moth’s grasp. “Let me go!”

His shoulder was going numb under Moth’s fingers. “And do what? Burn with them? You don’t have your powers. You’ve lent them to me, remember?”

“You mean you stole them,” Flame bit out.

Moth waved his free hand. “Semantics.” He bent down, his lips almost brushing Flame’s ear. Compared to the scalding air around them, his breath was almost cool. “You can’t save everyone,” he said again. “But you can doom everyone, if you’re ruthless enough. Don’t close your eyes, love. Let’s watch them burn.”

[wardenred]

Whumptember 11: "There's nothing else I can do"

Let's torture Flame again. Psychologically this time.

Flame stood under the scalding hot shower, his forehead pressed against the slippery tiles. He was dimly aware it was late afternoon. In his bedroom, his phone was choking on unread messages and missed calls. He had to contact work. He had to give them a plausible reason why he'd only just scraped himself off the bed. Why his head was buzzing with a vicious hangover that only made him crave another drink.

Because the real reason wasn't good enough, was it? It had all happened in front of his supervisor's eyes. Flame wondered if the blood stains had already been scrubbed off the office floor. They must have. Otherwise, the Agency might have trouble going about business as usual, and we can't have that, no. There are always people to save, deals to strike, villains to scare. Who would want to care about a single stupid intern who'd only been there for a day?

He forced his eyes open just to remember what it felt like, looked down at his wet hands. In the shadows cast by his own body, the water streaming off them looked dark, like blood.

Blood all over his hands, pooling underneath his knees, threatening to soak through the bulletproof fabric of his costume. "No, no, no, stay with me. Keep talking." Hard fingers digging into his shoulders. "Flame, let go." The grip is painful, and he latches onto this pain because it helps him focus. "I can't, he needs—" A headshake from the other side of the limp form. Peppermint, the on-duty healer, pushes to her feet. "There's nothing else I can do."

He gasped. Choked on the chlorine-saturated shower water. Nearly fell out of the stall.

There should have been something else they could've done. All of them. But especially Flame.

If he hadn't got distracted. If he hadn't told the kid to wait and chased alone after the villain. If he hadn't put his personal agenda over his duty.

They had all warned him—Batshit, Starlight, the bosses, even his nemesis. "If you keep obsessing over chasing shadows of the past instead of embracing the present, someone's going to get hurt." He'd heard variations of that again and again, and he'd never listened.

Now, that kid he should have been training to be a hero was dead after a single day on the job, and here he was, missing out on his responsibilities again. Crying in the shower like the pathetic sod that he was.

He didn't know what was making him sicker: the hangover, the memories, or the pure, unadulterated self-loathing.

[wardenred]

Whumptember 17: "Can you come pick me up?"

If I were Flame, I'd honestly retire.

As far as explosions went, this was a fucking big bang. Or that's how it felt to Flame, at any rate.

He dug himself out of the rubble, spitting and groaning, and found himself nearly blinded by the moonlight sifting through the thin clouds. With the growl of the detonation still echoing in his skull and the sparks of light and fire still dancing through his field of vision, the quiet night felt too much. The lap of the waves against the pier in the distance, the crickets' song beginning to pick up, the faraway sounds of sirens and cars—all of that weighed down on his nerves, turned them into hard, brittle splinters and cracked them down. The acrid smell of smoke didn't help, nor the sharp taste of bile at the base of his tongue. He swayed on his feet, took a few steps away from the burning ruin and, gracelessly, slumped on the warm asphalt.

The recent upgrades to his costume combined with the protective force field belt Newspaper had lent him were supposed to keep him safe from the damage. He supposed they had. He'd survived, after all. He'd crawled out of the crushed building. He was—here. Moving, thinking, making choices, or pretending to. It's just that everything was too much, his eyesight was getting worse by the second, the left side of his face felt numb, and he was probably going to be sick. 

Maybe this cool new tech wasn't all that it was touted to be.

Speaking of the belt. He slid a palm over the wide band of fabric slung over his hips, searching for the pocket where he'd stashed his phone. When he retrieved the gadget, he nearly groaned. Yup. The new tech really wasn't going to get any glowing reviews from him. There was a web of deep cracks running all over the screen. At least it still lit up when Flame croaked the code at the dynamic, showing him the list of missed calls. Not that he could see much, between his eyes failing him and the cracks obscuring everything. 

After a minute of squinting and cursing, he came to the conclusion that two of the entries contained Batshit's name. That made sense. She was his emergency retrieval contact for the mission. She probably wanted to know if he needed to be retrieved. 

Flame poked at the top of the list with a shaky finger until the phone got the hint and started dialling. As soon as the person on the other end picked up, he hurried to say, "Hey, I'm at the Deverley Warehouse, or what's left of it. Things are well; I am not. Can you come pick me up?"

He didn't wait for a reply. He wouldn't be able to process it, anyway, probably. Sticking the phone clumsily back into the belt pocket, he flopped down on his back, his useless eyes closed.

"Since you're asking so nicely, sure."

The voice came directly from above him, and it sure as hell wasn't his partner's. Flame stared up into indifferent faceted goggles.

"What the—"

"I retrieved the samples right while you were setting up the bomb," the villain informed him. "Then stuck around to watch the fire show. It was glorious. Though I got a little worried there when you didn't pick up your phone right after the boom. Now, come on, you clearly need someone to check your head. I know just the guy."

Flame was so screwed.

[wardenred]

Whumptember 14: "I’m on my way. Just hold on a little longer"

Flame gets rescued from this predicament... or does he?

"All you need to do is hold on a little longer. I'm almost there."

This was clearly a hallucination. Flame would have told it so, out loud, except his throat was parched and his tongue refused to move. So the best he could do was viciously think at it.

You're not real. Go away.

Seriously, who did his tired brain take him for? Moth didn't even have the power of projection. Even if he had, this basement was soaked in Starlight's nullification energy. Not to mention all the external anti-force fields that coated the entire lowel level of the building. No super could get in or out without official permission.

"And you're so sure I don't have agents on the inside, are you?"

Besides, there was no reason for Moth to rescue him this time. It wasn't like the burning house incident. His curiosity had been thoroughly satisfied, and he didn't care whether Flame lived or died.

"That's where you're wrong. You owe me too much for me to just let go."

You're not real. You're a lie.

"Just hold on a bit more."

The projection dissipated. Flame was alone in the dark again, with nothing to focus on but the pain and the numbness from his restraints.

No one was coming.

He let himself slip back under.